This happened in the late 80s. I was sharing an old house in CT with a couple of friends. The House was 2 floors with a walk-in, unfinished attic and full basement. There were 3 separate incidents, all occurring when I was home alone with my roommate’s German Shepard.
The first time I experienced something unusual was one evening when I decided to go up to the attic to look for something I had packed away. To get to the attic, I had to go through an unused bedroom where there was a doorway and a set of stairs going up to the attic. The attic was lit by a single bulb with a switch at the bottom of the stairs. My buddy’s Shepard followed me upstairs, but he stopped at the bottom of the attic stairs, put his tail and ears down and refused to go any further. This should have served as my first warning, but I wrote it off as the dog must have gotten in trouble one time, maybe chewing or relieving himself upstairs, and wouldn’t go up with me. I shrugged and went upstairs on my little mission.
I was upstairs, in a corner about 30 feet from the stairway, when suddenly there was a bright flash and I was plunged into darkness. Blown bulb. So now I had to shuffle in the dark until I got close enough to see the stairway, which was illuminated by the light in the downstairs bedroom. I went down to the kitchen, found a working flashlight and lightbulb and headed back up, not thinking anything of it other than being annoyed. I used the flashlight to change the bulb, then went back to rooting in boxes. Next thing I know, the new bulb blows. I’m still just annoyed, thinking old house, faulty wiring. I get my flashlight out and turn it on and POP- it’s bulb blows! Now the hairs on my neck start to stand up. I start to feel like maybe I’m not alone. I laugh at the thought and start shuffling to the lighted stairway when -flash- the downstairs light goes out! I’m trying, in total darkness, to find a hole in the floor with no railings that is the stairway. The feeling of not being alone is now making me crazy, and I feel like something is going to PUSH me down the stairs when I find them. I CRAWLED the last few feet then scurried down the stairs. I finally figured out why the door had a deadbolt lock on the bedroom side, as I locked the door behind me! That was the last time I went upstairs alone at night!
My second encounter came about a month later. The layout of the house had the living room located off to the side of the stairs for the second floor. There was a landing up 3 stairs, and on the other side of the landing, down 3 stairs, was the kitchen. One of my favorite games with the shepherd was to sit on the couch and throw a tennis ball over the landing into the kitchen. He would chase the ball for an hour if I would play. Well, this one night, I threw the ball about 10 times when he suddenly skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs, lowered his ears and tail, his hackles went up and he started snarling. Shocked, I jumped off the couch and ran over to see what the problem was. When I got there he suddenly relaxed and gave me a look I can only describe as confused. I searched the bedrooms upstairs, nobody was there, nothing out of the ordinary. I didn’t search the attic, though!
My final encounter was a couple months later. I had a habit of coming home, going to the fridge, grab a beer and open it, taking a long drink. I would then go to the front door, set the beer on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs and go out, across the street to check the mail. Well, that day I came back and my beer was missing. I thought it odd, but figured I must not have opened one for some reason. I didn’t give it much thought until the next day.
The following day I thought about the missing beer as I set my can down. I laughed a bit at myself as I double checked to make sure it was there as I closed the door, which hasn’t big window in it. I didn’t give it anymore thought until I came back inside and went to pick up my beer and it was gone! I checked all around the newel post, no can, no spilt beer. I had opened a new 6 pack, and I checked to make sure one was missing. I searched the house, nobody else was there. So now I’m perplexed.
So the next day I get my beer, open it, set it in the newel post. I open the door, spin around, check the beer, the room, looked upstairs. Everything is fine. I walk out the door, close it, cross the porch, spin around and run back in. Everything looks normal. I go out the door, down the steps, into the yard, turn and dash back. Beer still there. I go out, I cross the yard, through the hedges, turn, RUN back into the house, look upstairs and downstairs, beer in place, no signs of anybody in the house except the dog, who’s looking at me like I’ve gone crazy. I run out the door, cross the street, get the mail, dash back and my beer is GONE! No spills, no sounds, the dog was waiting on me, not acting like someone else was around. That was the last straw! I yelled out “I don’t care who or what you are, ghost, spirit, or troll living under the stairs! There’s a package store down the street. Get your own damn beer and leave mine alone!”
I lived there 2 more years and was never bothered again (although I still avoided the attic at night.) I tried to buy the house, but unfortunately the landlord had a better offer. It was torn down for condos.
Submitted by Bob Shankland
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